


The Chancellor

by delawana



Series: Lyna Mahariel, Warden Commander [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, King Alistair (Dragon Age), Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delawana/pseuds/delawana
Summary: Lyna Mahariel, Commander of the Grey and Chancellor of Ferelden, spends a beautiful evening with the man she loves at a ball at the Winter Palace reminiscing about when things were simpler and she didn't have to choose between love and duty.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Mahariel (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Lyna Mahariel, Warden Commander [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571797
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Chancellor

“Do you ever miss the Blight, Alistair?” Lyna asked, her elbows resting on the railing of the balcony just outside the Winter Palace. The Orlesians had invited them here for some treaty renegotiations, though why they had to be done amidst a ball was a mystery to her.

The King of Ferelden stood beside her, a dopey grin on his face as he leaned casually on his arm. The light filtering out of the ballroom made the gold thread on his clothing shine and she tried not to think about how broad his shoulders looked in his dress uniform. Those thoughts had to be a thing of the past and she would not permit them.

“Well, I don’t know. The constant threat of death and dismemberment  _ was _ certainly a highlight, and you know what I haven’t felt in a while? An overwhelming sense of impending doom. Sometimes I have to summon the headsman to stand over me with his axe raised just to be able to sleep.”

She punched him playfully on the shoulder and curled her lips into a slight smile. The kingship hadn’t changed him much, not in any way that mattered.

“Nowadays the most I have to fear is that someone’s poisoned my cheese,” he continued. “There could be no worse possible betrayal. If I’m ever murdered by cheese I expect you to avenge me by challenging it to a duel.”

“A full wheel or a slice?” she asked, covering her mouth with her fingers to hide the laughter beginning to bubble up inside. 

“See, this is why you’re my chancellor. You ask the important questions.” 

He was such an idiot. A gorgeous, wonderful idiot. 

He patted her shoulder supportively and she squeezed his hand in return, just long enough to show friendliness and no more. It was a lot softer than it used to be, many of the old callouses worn smooth by his new role. His hand was so warm. She hadn’t realized just how chilled she was by the night air until he removed it from her skin.

“So, what brings all this on? If you’re homesick for Oghren’s snoring you can just sit outside Uncle Eamon’s room at midnight; it’s quite the thing, believe me.”

Lyna was quiet, collecting her thoughts while she deciding on what vague obfuscation of the truth to tell him. It had gotten easier to ignore her feelings over the years, but something about tonight, with dancers spinning like glittering stars in the ballroom, had dredged them up again. Perhaps the wine was stronger than she had thought.

“Everything was simpler then,” she finally said. “No parties or people watching our every move, we had a job to do and we did it. And there were at least a few good times too, it wasn’t all bad.”

“Yeah. There were.”

The way that he stared down at her made her shift ever so slightly closer. He still smelled like lye soap just as he had as a boy, but something more now as well: a deep sandalwood, stronger, more mature. He didn’t have to touch her, he didn’t even have to talk _.  _ His eyes drew her in; she was a moth to his flame. They belonged to each other, even if they couldn’t, even if it would be easier not to. 

“I do sometimes miss the Blight, Lyna.”


End file.
